Hello
by partsguy
Summary: Continuing in the series where Joan Thursday nee Prewitt reenters Endeavour Morses life. This follows the brief story "Another". Set twelve years after season 5, Morse has been able to locate Joan's address.


**Hello**

"Momma!"

"What is it dear?"

"There's a man at the door"

"What did he want, did he say?"

"No, momma, he just asked were you in. "I told him you were, and then I shut the door like you told us."

"What did he look like honey?"

"He was old Momma." "He had grey hair, and he was dressed in a suit." "And oh, he had funny eyes."

Joan felt a quick rush of something that felt like excitement. An emotion that she quickly tamped down.

Joan pulled off her apron and started towards the door. She paused long enough in front of the mirror to make a feeble attempt to do something with her hair.

Grasping the door knob, she took a deep breath, slowly exhaling before turning the knob to open the door.

The man on the stoop turned back towards the door when he heard the sound of it opening. She locked eyes with him for a moment, then looked away, wondering which of them was the most flustered.

"Hello".

The man seemed to shuffle his feet, but more likely he just shifted his weight, uncertain of what to do. At the same time he, surprisingly appeared to be surprised by her appearance at the door. One hand reflexively going to his ear lobe.

"Eh, Hello." "I came around"

She looked him up and down drinking in his image. "I see"

"Would you like to come in?"

"That's very kind of you."

She stood aside to let him come in. Perhaps it was her imagination, but as he passed it seemed that she remembered the scent of his cologne.

"You'll have to excuse the mess. I've been trying to pack up some things before I call the movers."

"Ahh" He didn't see that there was any need to comment on that. While there were some boxes scattered around, it didn't appear that a lot of energy was being put into it.

"drink? I've got some wine, red of course. I think there's a bottle of scotch and I'm not sure of what else."

"Scotch would be fine"

Turning to her daughter Joan told her "why don't you go out and tell Ben to come in. You guys need to get started on your homework.

"Ah, it's too early."

"Run along, do as I say"

Turning back to Morse she smiled as if to say "children". Instead she said, "I'll get that drink".

"Here let me help you."

She led him into another room which he took to be either the den or a family room. There in a cabinet she found the scotch and a bottle of wine. While she went to get glasses he noticed the little alcohol in stock. From that he could only deduce that nether she nor her husband were heavy drinkers. The room, like what else he had seen was tastefully, but not extravagantly furnished. On balance one like hundreds of others he had found himself in over the years.

"Sorry it took me so long, I just wanted to look in on the kids and see that they really were getting their homework started."

"I see". "your daughter seems to be a very nice child, I'm sure your son in as well."

She laughed at that. "oh, if you only knew, they can be trying at times."

What could he say to that? Other that his own youth his knowledge of childrearing was virtually nonexistent. And, he thought, likely to stay that way.

"It was nice of you to stop by this afternoon."

She had settled down on the sofa with her legs tucked up under her. A habit that she had evidently picked up since he had last spent any time with her. He took his seat in one of the two easy chairs opposite her.

"Well I had wanted to call…"

"Why didn't you? I would have been glad you did"

So they were going to play that game again, he thought. Not relishing the prospect.

Obviously, she decided not to play it either as she added. "In fact that's why I asked Jim to be sure you had my number"

"Thank you, you shouldn't have had to do that".

"It's been a long time…. Too long, I think"

"Not keeping up, I don't know…" He paused to swirl his drink around his glass before taking another sip, "inexcusable really"

"Morse, let's not spend time exhuming the past, alright?"

What a relief "let's not". "So tell me about you. Tell me what I've missed"

"what do you want to know?" "You can see the result I think"

Yes, he thought, I can see the result quite plainly. So plainly. "everything… and anything"

So she told him what he had missed out on. Everything from that day that she suspected he wished hadn't happened. As for herself, she wasn't so sure.

Occasionally he would get up to refill one of the glasses, or she would go in and check on the kids. Between those times it was just conversation. Hesitant at times, like it had been before, but it seemed they could always find a new tack to take. Suddenly she glanced at the clock, straightened up and said,

"I've got to get dinner; the time has slipped up on me." "won't you stay?"

"I don't want to impose on you"

She gave a short laugh "impose? Morse we are having sandwiches and crisps"

"Even so….."

"have you got a better offer?"

He had to admit he had nothing but an empty house awaiting him.

"well if you're sure I'm not imposing"

"want to help me get it ready?"

That struck him as funny, nobody had more practice making sandwiches than he did.

"of course"

"well come on I will show you where everything is"

They puttered around the small kitchen. Occasionally bumping into each other as they simultaneously reached for something or thought that they needed something else. Awkward to be sure, but each one thought that it was a very comfortable awkwardness.

When everything was prepared, and, on the table, Joan went to call the children to table. Morse stood there uncomfortably, regretting his decision. Finally Joan brought the two children in and everyone sat down to the table. Joan had to explain to them that Morse was an old friend who had stopped by to visit. Of course her daughter had to ask the question that she had been praying that one of them wouldn't ask. "Is he going to spend the night momma?"

She flushed immediately, studiously avoided looking at Morse before answering "no dear, Mister Morse will be going to his own house tonight." "Isn't that right, Mister Morse?"

"Indeed, I shall"

After that the meal proceeded smoothly, or as smoothly as he imagined any of them ever would. In fact he couldn't avoid the thought that this was probably much like the meals that Joan had grown up with in the Thursday home.

After dinner Joan supervised the children as they washed the dishes while Morse watched. Afterwards he helped Ben to dry before Joan and her daughter put them away. After the dishes had been put away, the four of them adjourned to the family room where they could watch a little television. By now Morse thought that he had his cue to make his exit.

"I've certainly enjoyed this, but I must be running along. Busy day tomorrow, you know."

As he placed both hands on the armrests preparatory to standing he looked Joan in the eye to gauge her reaction.

"It's early yet, can't you stay a little longer?"

"Please"

Every ounce of reason in his mind told him to stand, to go home. To not let a decade be washed away in a few hours.

He relaxed and sat back down in his chair.

For the next couple of hours Morse fidgeted in his chair, flexed his hands, smiled vacuously and wished he was anywhere else. Fortunately he was able to see the clock on the wall, so he didn't have to steal glances at his watch, obviously watching the time. At times he could have sworn that time had stopped.

Joan always enjoyed this time of the day when she was able to spend time with her children. While the programs could be tiresome it was fun to see the pleasure the kids got from them. Tonight she had to admit to taking another guilty pleasure from the time spent. Seeing Morse sitting there, obviously uncomfortable, at her bidding, warmed her more than she would willingly admit. Of course the kids would be put to bed soon and then what? If Morse stayed until then, something she wasn't going to be convinced of until it happened, then what? Was this the time to finally put closure to the issue that had driven them apart years ago? Or would Morse just choose to ignore it? She suspected that he would choose the latter, and, perhaps it was the wisest course.

"Well kids, it's time for bed."

"Ahh, mom. Just a little longer. Please"

"No, you know the rules."

"now go ahead and get ready I'll be up in a minute."

After the children had gone upstairs, Morse finally felt free to take an exaggerated look at his watch.

"I guess I'd better be running along also. It's been lovely."

"No, wait. Fix yourself another drink, I won't be but a minute."

While waiting for her to return Morse had a feeling of something beyond what he had expected. It wasn't nervousness, he had expected that. No, this was, to put it bluntly dread. But dread of what? Dread of being called out for the boor he had been? Dread of being alone with the woman that had once meant the world to him, but was now another man's wife, with another man's children? Or dread that being alone with her, even with her children upstairs, might reawaken emotions that had lain dormant for years? Regardless of the answer how would he deal with it?

He found her glass and filled it, they might as well be on equal footing when she returned. He didn't bother to sit, instead choosing to stand in front of the fireplace. The picture above the mantlepiece, certainly a reproduction, surprised him a bit. It must be something that appealed to her husband, he didn't see it being to Joan's taste. Just then he heard her returning to the room.

"I took the liberty of pouring you a glass."

"Thank you, have a seat"

"If it's all right with you I'd rather stand"

She dipped her head in acceptance "suit yourself"

"I'm glad you came around tonight, even if I had to almost get Jim to drag you over"

She could see him reflexively stiffen at that. It wasn't very noticeable, but he hadn't changed all that much. Older, to be sure, but then they both were. Surprisingly he seemed a little less guarded, although he would never be an open book.

"well" another look into his glass and a swirl of the liquid inside,

She had to stifle a smile, in some ways he was still so predictable.

"are you uncomfortable being alone" she paused to give a meaningful glance upstairs "with me?"

"Perhaps its not the most prudent thing that I've ever done"

"And why not? Are you afraid that you would lose control and try to ravish me?" she couldn't resist a wicked little smile "Or perhaps that I might try to have my way with you?"

"No, because I thought we might begin to have a conversation like this"

"Oh, I wouldn't dismiss it so quickly Morse." She sat her wine glass down on the side table and stood up, began to walk over to him. "In fact I remember a time, a brief time to be sure, when we couldn't keep our hands off of each other".

She stopped just a foot or so short of him, looked him in the eye and in a voice that he had never been able to resist said "but that was then, and this is now." "Come over here and sit down and let's talk."

With that she turned on her heel and went back to the sofa, taking her seat.

Morse, after waiting a few seconds for dignities sake, followed her and took his place beside her.

They sat there quietly for just a bit, probably not more than ten or fifteen seconds. Each apparently waiting for the other to speak first. In the end it was her that broke it.

"Pity, don't you think?"

"Pity?

"Yes, I think that's the proper word. But shame if you prefer."

He examined her face a little more closely, searching her features, trying to decipher her meaning "I don't follow "

"No, I daresay you don't and that's the pity, or the shame."

Silence

She continued "You see this is how I expected it would be for us…..Back then"

Oh, my God. The trap had been sprung.

His mind was whirling, proposing responses, and discarding them for various reasons.

"It looks like it has turned out very well for you though." "Your children are very nice"

She gave him a polite hint of a smile in acknowledgement.

Well might as well see the lay of the land.

"You must be very happy"

He thought he detected a flash of something in her eyes, but he couldn't be sure. If he was right….

"I suppose mostly so"

Choosing to change the direction of the conversation he asked, "why did you enlist Strange to set this all up?" "I knew you guys were friends…" dam, dam. What a fool "back then"

"Oh, we've continued to stay in touch." "He's been a good friend all along." She took another sip of her wine, "in truth I don't think he was very happy with the way things happened."

"no I don't suppose he would have been." He paused, thought about it a moment, raised his glass almost to his lips before continuing, "but then not many people were." he finished taking his sip, then lowered his glass, taking it in both hands, as he looked down at the floor.

"I cried a lot, you know".

He could only wait. Suspecting what was coming.

"I would have done anything to change it you know"

Please, he thought, don't drag this out.

"Did you ever think of reconsidering?"

"do you really want an answer?"

"what will it hurt now?" "yes, I think I would, like to know I mean."

It would be hard to differentiate the pain in the two faces, although Morse may have won by a short head.

"yes, … yes, everyday for a very long time." "a very long time"

"then why didn't you?" "Morse, I wanted you to do it so badly!"

He couldn't take his eyes off the dark spot in the pattern of the rug.

"Morse?"

"I just, … I just couldn't"

She reached over, gently brushed his cheek with her knuckles, but got no reaction. She sighed softly as she pulled her fingers away.

Quickly, so quickly that it surprised her, he grabbed her hand. Not roughly, yet firmly. And placed her fingers, along with his own back on his cheek.

He held them there, leaning into the touch every so slightly. She made no effort to remove them, waiting to see what he would do, asking herself why they had had to wait for years for this. Was it fair to let this continue? Why not let the past stay buried? Oh, it would been ok to place a few fresh flowers on the grave of her memories, but this? And she couldn't deny, to herself or anyone, that this had been the likely result of poking the bear. She remembered Jim Strange's reaction when she had asked him to help her with this plan. "Joan, it's your life, live it as you want, but I would think twice about this. You may be throwing a match into a particularly explosive mixture." Well, she was a big girl now. Maybe a few fireworks would be welcome about now.

"Morse?" He was clinging to her hand like it was a life preserver, gently but firmly.

He still had not moved his head, not even a millimeter. "I'm so sorry… so very sorry."….. "I shouldn't have come by."

"Are you working tomorrow?"

"Yes, Lewis and I have to finish the paperwork for the case we just finished."

"Maybe I can come by your place tomorrow, cook your dinner. I can get a sitter"

Finally he looked back up, releasing her hand as if nothing had happened. Turning to look her in the eye, "I could pick you up if you'd like?"

"That would be very nice of you" "I'll stop by Richardson's tomorrow and do a little shopping, any requests?"

"No, nothing special"

"Then it's a date." "Don't think me rude but it's getting late."

"Indeed, it is"

They each stood and walked towards the doorway. She opened the door and stood aside to let him pass out into the evening.

"Good night. It's been…lovely"

"Good night"

She shut the door behind him, made sure the locks were engaged, paused for a moment and thought to herself, "yes, I remember that cologne". She walked off towards her bedroom turning off lights as she went.


End file.
